The Raincheck
by Ruphira
Summary: When their passenger liner capsizes, Jenna and a slew of strangers are washed up on a foreign beach. She ends up a farmer; a far cry from the royal life she fled. Now she has a secret to keep, and one man from her past could ruin all she's built...
1. Prologue

**A/N: Ello there C: this was my first fanfiction, so yes, it was pretty crappy. BUT I've reworked it recently and hope to get back to finishing it! I still have pretty big plans for it, so…yeah. I hope you enjoy it ^^**

**Disclaimer: I DO NOT OWN Harvest Moon. Or related characters, merchandise, etc…Basically I don't own anything. ^^**

Prologue

"Come on, then! Pull 'er into port! Nice and easy, lads!"

Alerted by the sailor's shouts that her boat was near, she hastily tucked her journal away into her single suitcase and stood to watch it pull into harbour. Several men knotted the small boat to the dock and helped down the six or seven passengers from onboard.

"Finally!" groaned the impatient pink-haired girl at her side before standing to stretch. Her family rose with her and immediately started arguing over who was carrying what.

She stood back and waited, her light flower-print sundress fluttering in the crisp spring breeze. The family finally established responsibilities and piled messily onboard. She followed slowly, stopping just before she reached the boarding ramp.

"All ready to board, miss?" the gruff sailor asked, barely glancing up at her from his shipping log.

Her heart pounded. Now or never. She quickly took a peek over her shoulder at the country behind her.

"Ma'am?" prompted the sailor, finally looking up and trying to meet her eyes.

"Oh—yes," she answered hastily, ducking her head down so that the wide brim of her hat obscured her face. The sailor raised an eyebrow.

"Right then. I'll take your ticket now." She handed over her boarding ticket, and he offered her a hand onto the ramp. "Thank you, miss. Enjoy your trip."

"Thank you," she replied, stepping carefully onto the ramp gripping her carpet bag, white-knuckled under her lacy gloves.

On the deck, the sea wind threatened to tear her sunhat off. She pulled down on it hard and peered over the rail of the boat to watch the handlers leading the animal cargo on board. Carefully scrutinizing every horse that was loaded, she recognized her own mount being lead in by a man dressed like a cowboy.

"Falada!"

The chestnut gelding's head jerked up at his mistress's voice, surprising his handler. His nostrils flared and he bobbed his head in recognition. The girl beamed down at him and waved until he was lead into the ship below, out of view.

Her heart pounded suddenly, out on her own again. She grabbed the rim of her sunhat and walked briskly to the stairs leading below deck, careful to sneak quietly by the pink-haired family gawking at the water below. _The ship hasn't even started __moving__ yet, _she thought cynically to herself before quickly stepping down.

Room 4. She quickly turned her key in the lock and ducked inside, closing the door securely behind her. With a sigh of immense relief, she dropped her bag on the floor, tossed her hat off and flung herself exhaustedly onto the hard bed.

Her blue eyes didn't open for several minutes. She eventually willed herself to sit up, brushing strands of brown hair out of her face and kicking her pinchy shoes off. She padded around on the carpet a few times, loving the feel of the carpet on her bare feet, until she heard a faint whinny from down below.

She grabbed her hat and tied it back on over her hair, then ducked back out into the hall. She couldn't resist staying away from her best friend any longer.

The rough, once-polished floorboards were unforgiving on her soft feet, but she preferred the feeling over that of her fashionable footwear. She clambered awkwardly down the rungs of a ladder that she hoped led into the belly of the ship—the stables—and not the kitchen, or men's bathroom, or somewhere equally humiliating.

She was in luck. The familiar smell of horses, hay and wood hit her like a wave, and she gleefully danced through the straw-covered floor, peeking in each temporary stall for Falada.

Cows and sheep looked back at her with interest as she twirled by, and a few pigs snorted hopefully for food. A whinny caught her attention, and grinning, she padded through the straw towards her horse.

"Hey, boy," she murmured gently, rubbing her face against his. He snorted softly in reply and shook his mane at her. "I missed youuu! I know you probably won't like this trip…it's going to be unsettling and it might scare you, but we've been through worse and I know you'll be okay. Just be brave for me, okay? This is the last trip, I promise."

He breathed his warm horsey breath over her face, and she smiled. "I wish I had some carrots or sugar for you," she admitted, stroking his neck lovingly.

"Don't worry, miss, the kitchen will take care of that," someone behind her retorted.

Her heart skipped a beat in surprise and she whirled around. Leaning nonchalantly against a beam, his arms crossed, was Falada's cowboy handler. Although his face was also obscured by his wide-brimmed hat, she pulled hers down further to mask her face and the hot blush that was creeping across it from being overheard.

"I'm glad to hear that," she said, trying to fill the awkward silence and regain some of her dignity. "Just…ah…I hope you do a good job."

"His name is Falada?" the cowboy asked. The girl would have given anything to just disappear.

"Yes," she answered shortly.

He didn't reply for awhile. "You should leave. They're going to be bringing dinner to your cabin soon, and anyway you don't belong here." He pushed off from the beam and turned to collect some straw.

She drew herself up to her full, intimidating height of 5'3". "If my horse is here, I've as much a right to be here as anyone," she snapped.

The cowboy only glanced pointedly at her bare, dirtied feet and said nothing. With a huff, she turned away and bolted for the ladder. Men were nothing but troublesome jerks anyway.

The cowboy looked after her and rolled his eyes. Women were such haughty nuisances.

.:.:.:::.:.:.

**A/N: So, there you have the beginning of a beautiful friendship. Or not.**

**Anyway… If you have time, please leave me a review ^^ thanks for reading!**


	2. The Beginning

She couldn't summon the energy to lift her head.

Rolling over onto her back, she stared up into the vast, dark star-studded sky, and thought about how cold she was. And wet too. She wondered briefly if she had hypothermia—isn't that what happened when you stayed in cold water too long? No matter. Where was Falada?

"Falada," she called weakly after a moment, surprised at how strange her voice sounded in the deep quietness. Shivering violently, she forced herself to sit up and look around. At least she was on land now.

She looked out at the sea, now looking so peaceful and naïve. But under that innocent surface lay the passenger liner; the _Clytemnestra, _her freedom.

It was a small ship, not many passengers. She wondered vaguely where they had all disappeared to—and then stopped with that thought. Trembling, she wrapped her arms tightly around her body and curled into herself. _Well, _she thought wryly, _that went well. _

Her traveling clothes were soaking wet, clinging to her body and chilling her straight through. She hoped dryly that Heaven had complimentary towels.

"Falada!" she called again, more insistently this time. Her beautiful gelding had to be around here someplace—after all, she wouldn't have made it to shore without him.

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She continued calling for her horse, in between woozy periods of semi-consciousness and empty sleep. Finally, after an immeasurable length of time, she got a response.

"Hello? Is someone there?" an older voice called out, sounding surprised. She was also surprised—a whinny was more the response she was expecting.

"Hello, yes, I'm here—over here, on the shore, please," she called out helpfully, not exactly sure what to say. And then, almost before she could finish thinking the question, she blubbered, "Do you have towels here?"

"What? Towels?"

"Well, yes, but they're not in very good shape," came another voice doubtfully, a young man's. She heard the sound of wet shoes squelching through the sand towards her.

She shook her head, convinced she could hear the salty water splashing around inside her skull. When she raised her head, two figures stood over her: a bow-legged older man with small, piercing eyes, wielding a knotty cane, accompanied by a tall young man with what appeared to be pink hair, and large round glasses.

"Doesn't look like you're in much better shape, lassie," remarked the old man, his sharp eyes scrutinizing her. Abruptly, he thrust his hand out to her. She flinched. "Well go on, take it," he prompted irritably. Embarrassed, she took his hand. With surprising strength he pulled her up to her feet, from where she almost fell face-first into the sand.

"Easy, miss," the pink-haired man said, steadying her as she wavered about uncertainly. It was then that he noticed her violent shivering, and quickly removed his coat and draped it over her shoulders.

"Th-thank you," she said, pulling it around her, concealing the fact that she was feeling slightly disappointed that it was sort of damp. Couldn't _something_ be dry here?

"Sorry it's a little wet…I was in the same state as you earlier," he said bashfully.

"Girl will catch her death of cold here, standing around all night," sniffed the old man. He took her elbow and guided her away from the shore. "Come, my daughter will have something warm for you. Possibly."

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After what seemed like an eternity, the men brought her to a clear area at the end of what was probably once a cobblestone road. A bonfire burned, made of dried driftwood and a couple of sacrificed shrubs. They sat her down on a wet cargo box near the bonfire, and she leaned into the flames, feeling the warmth thaw her face and hands. A thin, middle-aged, pink-haired woman with a kind face rushed over to meet her, armed with a ready towel. She threw it over the girl's hair and pressed out as much water as she could.

"Oh, oh, oh, you poor dear thing, you must be frozen—Natalie, is there any fish left?"

"Here's some, Mom. It's the one I caught. Bob, remember?" Another girl, also pink-haired, (the same one from the dock?) appeared behind the woman, bearing a fish head and partial body dangling from a crude hook. The sight made the new girl gag.

"Please, Natalie," the woman said with disgust. "Prepare it for our guest. There there, honey…it's alright. What is your name?"

It took a moment for the question to register. The girl's mouth worked furiously. She almost gave them her name, and then thought the better of it. She desperately tried to think of an answer, knowing that too long of a delay would make them suspicious. Finally, she gave them the nickname her brother had given her when they were little.

"Jenna," she replied.

"What a pretty name. Jenna. Well, Jenna," Felicia said, sitting down on a crate beside her, "As far as we know, we are the only…survivors….of that shipwreck."

The thought was sobering.

"Were there many more passengers?" Jenna asked, quietly. The old man, standing over the bonfire cooking Bob the fish, nodded.

"Besides myself—I'm Taro, by the way—my grandson Elliott…" he gestured to the pink-haired youth, "my daughter Felicia, granddaughter Natalie, and you, there was a young punk dressed like a right cowboy. I don't know where he got off to."

Jenna stared into the fire wordlessly.

"It was a small load," Elliott continued. "I think the only others on board were the crew."

"Why didn't you come out of your cabin? I didn't see you on board. I thought the only passengers were us four," Natalie said to Jenna.

Jenna forced herself to make eye contact with the girl. "I was just feeling a little seasick," she lied. Felicia made a sympathetic noise.

"So," Taro said, sitting down on a damp crate opposite Jenna, "where are you from, and where were you going?"

"I—I, um…" Jenna paused, frantically trying to form a reasonable response. "I was going to visit my cousin on Waffle Island."

Natalie brightened. "I have a friend who lives there! What's your cousin's name?"

Squirming uncomfortably, Jenna answered, "Uhh, she was just moving in. I don't think your friend would know her yet. Where were you headed?"

Taro spread his arms dramatically. "We were moving to the present-day Eden!"

"Oh?" Jenna asked politely, resisting the urge to raise an eyebrow.

Natalie rolled her eyes. "It's some dried up lakebed or something. The soil is supposed to be really good, and Granddad wanted to start a farm up there."

"I used to be quite the agricultural _artiste_, don'tcha know," Taro said smugly. "And I've still got some fire in me yet!" Natalie rolled her eyes again.

"Yeah," she said, "we heard."

Silence enveloped the group as they became absorbed in their own thoughts. Finally, Elliott asked aloud what they were all wondering:

"So…what do we do now?"

"Well," Taro said, patting the earth beside him with his cane, "This, I reckon, is some prime farmland. I expect one could make a decent living off this here island."

"What about five?" Jenna asked, half-jokingly, half-seriously. Taro produced a pipe from his overalls pocket, emptied it of seawater, and stuck it in his mouth without lighting it.

"Yes, I think we'd be fine. If we each pull our weight on this here island, we could make quite a nice living indeed. Yes, indeed," he concluded thoughtfully, squinting into the night.

"So…do we have a battle plan?" asked Jenna hopefully. Taro turned his squinty-eyed stare to her.

"A what now, girl?"

She shook her head. "Do we have…a plan? A strategy? Any ideas?"

"How do we go about surviving?" Felicia supplied. She put her arms around Jenna's shoulders and tried to rub some warmth in. Taro chewed thoughtfully on the end of the pipe. After a moment he turned to Jenna with excitement.

"You are young and healthy. Exploring this island earlier, I found the remains of an old farmhouse and some land. You—you could live there. Yes," he continued, gaining momentum, "and—and the rest of us could live there—" he gestured to a disintegrating shack behind them, "—and ship all your produce. If we make a go of this, Felicia could go into town and arrange for shopkeepers, and animal delivery and—yessiree, this could most certainly work." He sat back on his crate, chewing his pipe and looking pleased with himself.

"But," Jenna spluttered, "That can't work! I don't know anything about running a farm! Weren't you the ones who just bought one in Eden?"

Natalie laughed. "She has a point, Pops," she said to Taro. He scowled at her, and waved his hand at Jenna, dismissing her complaints.

"Girl. Calm yourself. We'll be right here in that house, and come see me if ya's got any issues, ya hear?"

Jenna's mouth thinned into a line. "Yeah, I guess I can try," she said doubtfully. "But don't say I didn't warn you if I become a permanent fixture of your place…and end up eating all your food."

Taro smiled, extending his hand. "Deal," he said. They shook, albeit uneasily on Jenna's side.

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It was three days after Jenna had moved into her new home, drafty and unstable as it was. She was almost always hungry, not often clean, but—despite her initial reservations—happier than she had ever been in her life. Taro had found Falada grazing in the sea grass one morning and brought him to his delighted mistress, and Jenna felt like someone had turned the light on at the end of the tunnel.

Slowly, however, word was beginning to leak out about the shipwreck. Reporters came and went, trying to snatch interviews, writing summaries about the barren wasteland that the "_Clytemnestra _Victims" were now forced to live in, and generally getting in the way of Jenna's morning foraging.

_I feel like the village idiot, _Jenna thought irritably, scavenging herbs and berries while stoutly avoiding the cameras. Taro's family usually ate fish or birds they caught using contraptions Elliott created, but

Jenna was too shy to ask if she could use them.

Shy, or proud. She was focusing on making herself self-sufficient for when Taro's family proceeded on to Eden, and she would be in total solitude on the island. (Natalie insisted the place was actually called Forget-Me-Not Valley, but ironically enough, Jenna had a hard time remembering its name, so it became Eden.)

The publicity turned out to be good for Sunny Island (as Jenna found out it was called after reading a badly-written report on the exotic lives of the "_Clytemnestra_ Tribe"). A merchant, Chen, had decided it was an ideal location for starting up his new business. He and his son Charlie were the latest additions to the "Tribe". From them, Jenna bought her first crop seeds—turnips! Jenna hated turnips.

At least she wouldn't be tempted to eat her own crop instead of selling it…

She also completely restyled her wardrobe via Chen's shop, to suit her new job. He sold bolts of fabric, and she bought some yellow and orange—_warm _colours—to make herself a bandana. One incident with getting long strands tangled in a bush overflowing with some of the island's least disgusting berries was enough to let her know…if she didn't do something with her locks, the bush would.

She still felt completely awkward with Taro's family. She knew they were a tightly-knit group, even if Natalie was hard on her older brother. Jenna felt segregated from them, as if she ran her own corporation far removed from them and only met with them for business transactions. It wasn't like they weren't friendly…she just didn't know how to act around them. She hadn't normally associated with the public in her life, and a part of her brain scolded her for wanting to. A part of her insisted that it was too late now to ever start.

One morning, Jenna found herself venturing outside the boundary of her farm, which was something she usually only did when she was on the brink of starvation. She followed the path from her property past Taro's house, wondering where it would lead her and why none of the others ever mentioned anything past this certain section of the island. Natalie's face appeared in the window of the house, and the two girls waved at each other as Jenna continued walking.

She stopped in front of the huge boulder blocking her path. "Oh."

No problem. This was what huge, heavy hammers were for! She ran back to her farmhouse to fetch the tool, then dragged it back to the rock, leaving a churned-earth trench behind her. With great effort she heaved it up and brought it down heavily on the boulder.

The hammer bounced off. Irritated, she tried again, and this time went reeling backwards when the boulder reflected the hammer like it was a mere beach ball.

Not to be so easily beaten, Jenna returned the next day, and the next…all the while with the hammer in tow. She was determined to beat down the rock and discover what lay in wait behind it. But finally, on the fifth day when she hadn't made so much as a dent, she had to admit defeat.

"Augh," she growled, "you are the most annoying, inconvenient, frustrating thing in my life! What are you blocking?" She kicked it in aggravation, then sank to the ground, stubbornly ignoring the pain in her toe.

"Hi," Elliott said timidly from behind. Jenna jerked in surprise and then stood and turned in one motion.

"Oh—hi. I didn't hear you coming," she said with a small grin.

"No, you were probably too busy yelling at the boulder," he replied, smiling widely. Jenna only blushed and stared down at her feet. "Oh, uh, I didn't mean to—please don't be angry," he pleaded. Natalie, running from their house, caught the tail end of their conversation.

"Oh, shut up, you dweeb," she told him, hip-checking him out of the way. "Hi, Jenna! Don't mind my brother, he's stupid and says stupid things. Just be like the rest of us and pretend he doesn't exist. It makes life waaaay simpler, believe me."

"Natalie, how do you ever expect to find a husband like that? You're so unladylike. I worry about you sometimes!" Elliott quipped defensively.

"I worry about you worrying about my ladylikeness! What do you know about being a lady? Oh, excuse me, I forgot—you do often act like one."

"Well, you asked to be excused, that's a start," muttered Elliott, a furious flush creeping up into his face at her comments.

"I didn't _ask _to be excused, I _demanded_ it," Natalie said mildly. "Anyway, you better leave before you offend Jenna again. Go on, shoo!"

"Don't tell me what to do," Elliott told her, sounding a little uncertain.

"I'm helping you. Maybe Mother will have some cookies that you can help bake, or a ladies' tea meeting you'd like to join. Won't hurt to check, will it?"

"I can't believe I'm related to you!" Elliott stormed off, his dignity injured.

"Enjoy the tea!" Natalie called after him happily. Jenna couldn't help but stare at this girl with amazement, but she swallowed her judgment. Natalie easily broke the following silence. "Mom went into town the other day, and she found a carpenter who might be interested in coming here. She says he's a monster of a man, and can probably rip this boulder apart with his bare hands." She smacked the stone, and then wiped the grit on her shorts.

"That would be nice," Jenna said awkwardly. Then, "I wonder what's behind it?"

"I hope it's an ancient civilization of island natives," Natalie said vigorously. "Maybe they'd give us teepees and jewels in return for something like—something like—"

"Orange grass?" Jenna offered, laughing. Natalie grinned.

"Yes! Precisely. But then they'd probably crown the carpenter as their king and leave the rest of us in the dust."

"The gravel, you mean," Jenna corrected with a grin. "I hope there's something like…an orchard. Or a meadow full of berry bushes. Or maybe a café that serves banana cream pies all day long." Natalie laughed outright at her finish.

"Is food all you can think about? Well, we'd all get sick to death of banana cream pies, even you. Pies? Is that what you miss most? What about your family?"

Jenna shrugged noncommittally. "What do you miss most?"

Natalie chewed her lip. "I miss nights in the city. The rush of traffic, the lights…even the noise. It was like a lullaby to me. I mean, the quietness of this place is nice and everything, but it's just not the same. Where did you come from, anyway?"

"Um," Jenna paused. "Um. The middle of nowhere, really."

"Were you farmers? No, wait. You said you had no farming experience. Why didn't you live near a city? Was it a big house?"

"Oh, yes."  
Natalie was getting excited. "Oooooh! Were you rich?" Jenna only shrugged again, which added to Natalie's thrill. "Oh, wow! You could just call for a private jet and get us all out of here!" She laughed, and Jenna joined in, looking at her watch (which had somehow survived the wreck).

"The morning is getting away, I better go berry-hunting," she said, smiling. "I'll see you around."

"Oh, okay," Natalie replied cheerfully. "Catcha later!"


	3. Working Hard or Hardly Working

Jenna really couldn't decide whether or not she liked Natalie. When it was just the two of them, she was a nice enough girl, but put her anywhere near Elliott, and she went off like Mentos in a 2L Coke bottle. And what was so wrong with Elliott, anyway? He was nice, and helpful, and sincere. Leaving the mystery to another day, she splashed noisily into the surf to collect seaweed, which she had discovered paid rather well.

"Could I possibly interest you in a wicker basket?" a little voice suddenly piped up from behind her. Jenna inhaled sharply in surprise—what was with these people and sneaking craftily up behind her? She turned around to see Chen's little son, Charlie, standing there in the sand beaming widely at her.

"A—a basket?"

"Yes, for your seaweed, lady! It's easier to carry stuff in them, you know," he said helpfully.

Jenna laughed, feeling foolish. "Oh, yes, of course," she said with a smile, liking the friendly little boy.

He grinned sunnily and stuck out his hand. "That's 150G!"

She stuck her hands in her frayed pockets, hoping nothing had fallen out. "Where did you say the basket was?" she asked.

Charlie's mouth fell open. "Uhh—right. Lemme go grab that. I'll be right back, lady!" He bolted off through the sand towards his father's shop.

He returned promptly with a spacious, deep wicker basket. Jenna paid him, grateful to the Harvest Goddess after finding about 2000G still sitting patiently in her pockets.

A boat horn blasted as she loaded the day's bounty into the basket. Jenna glanced up and saw a small transport boat nearing the port. She backed out of the surf and stood back to watch it dock, her hand shielding her eyes from the sun, wondering how she could have missed it before.

Crew members piled out to secure the exit, and a single huge, hulking, beefy man lumbered out onto the landing. He was heavily muscled and hunched over like a gorilla, and was bald on the top of his head, but gray hair framed his ears and down his cheeks. His brow was low and two small eyes squinted out at the sun as he frowned deeply—even his forehead seemed to be frowning. He walked slowly down the dock, ignoring the crewmen, and stepped carefully down the steps. He seemed to be about 50 years old.

As he began to walk across the beach towards the houses, Jenna realized she was staring, and quickly turned and headed home as well. She found herself walking beside him on the road and smiled uncertainly at him.

"I—um, hello," she greeted him.

"Eh," he grunted, then spied the basket of seaweed she carried. "A welcome present? You really know how to bribe a hungry man. Maybe I will stay. But don't count on it." He stopped, and held out his meaty hands to accept her "welcome present".

"I—actually—" Jenna began, then meekly handed him the basket. "I hope you like it here, sir."

"Name's Gannon," he said shortly, stuffing his face with the slimy green gift. "If I don't like it, I don't stay. Got a girl to look after."

"Oh," Jenna said politely. "That's—reasonable." She wondered to herself what sort of brave woman married this human boulder as she goggled at the fact he was actually downing the greenish goop—and seeming to enjoy it.

Gannon asked her where a certain building was, and then took no more notice of her. She helped him set up a few machines in the rundown building and finally made her escape. She went straight to Natalie's house and knocked on the door.

Taro threw the door open rather aggressively, and Jenna jumped back. "Girl! Come in, come in, we were just setting down to lunch. And seems to me like you just gave your perfectly good lunch away, so why don't you join us?" It was more of a request than an invitation, so she stepped inside the shack with a meek yes-thank-you.

Felicia hastily cleared a spot on the cluttered table and brought another plate down from a rotting shelf that served as a cupboard. "We found some of our belongings washed up on the beach!" she announced cheerfully. Jenna laughed and sat down at the table as Taro herded Natalie and Elliott in.

Felicia served some sort of meat and mushy vegetables on the plates and distributed them to the others before sitting down at the table. Jenna glanced down at her food, wondering how they were going to start the meal. Elliott cleared his throat politely, and she looked up to see them all joining hands and bowing their heads. She hurriedly linked up with her neighbours—Taro and Natalie—and bowed her head.

"Almighty and gracious Harvest Goddess, we thank you for all we are blessed with," Elliott began. "Thank you for the food on our plates and the roof over our heads, and for our family and friends. Many people have to live without these basic necessities, and we are very grateful for having been provided with them. Amen."

They dropped their hands and set down to eating.

"So, girl. I sawl you give your gol-darn lunch away to that walkin' mountain there. What was that s'posed to be?" Taro demanded critically.

"Well, sir, it wasn't really my lunch, I was going to sell it, actually," Jenna replied, stabbing her meat offhandedly. She never really cared that much for meat, but felt obligated to eat it as a guest.

"Did Charles not sell you that there basket just earlier?" he pushed on, mercilessly. Jenna squirmed uncomfortably. Did this man see _everything_?

"Well, yes, but..."

"But, he thought it was a welcome gift, and it was your place to give it to 'im straight, ye hear? You just given away more'n 1500G, girl. Just because you was shy." He plunged his fork in the hunk of meat and began sawing away at it like it owed him money.

"Aw, Granddad, let up. Elliott would have done the same. Besides, maybe now he will stay—and we'll get something done around here," said Natalie in between mouthfuls.

"Hey!" Elliott protested.

"Don't talk with your mouth full," Felicia chided serenely, "In any case, Jenna is free to join us for meals at any hour of the day! I feel just awful that she has to fend for herself. It's just not right."  
" 'Specially if she keeps giving food away as she does," Taro growled.

"Now, Daddy." Felicia never seemed to get upset. "Leave the poor dear alone. I declare we take her in under our wing."

"Mom, don't embarrass me," Natalie groaned. Jenna ducked her head down and grinned, and Felicia reached across the table to pat her hand.

"Mom!" Natalie complained. "You always tell us not to reach across the table!"

"So, what did you come over to tell us?" Elliott interrupted.

"Oh," Jenna said. "Just that I thought the carpenter was here, but apparently you already knew! And did you know he has a wife?"

"A wife!" gasped Natalie. "He seemed like such a crab though, when we met him on the mainland!"

"My impression was more of a bear," Jenna said wryly. "But yes, he said he had a girl to look after, and she's the main deciding factor on whether he stays or goes."

"Jeez, I hope she likes remote island locations without any spas or domestic conveniences," Natalie said drily.

"Oh, but we've got lots of seaweed," Jenna reminded her, grinning.

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After shipping some odd herbs and flowers she had found blooming on the island (and eating others, when she was sure nobody was looking), Jenna took some time to thoroughly explore her property. She found she had a tiny stable and woodshed, a large, rocky field, vast green space behind the field, and another huge rock at the rear of the land. She considered asking Gannon to do something about it, but decided not to push it on the first day. So instead, she ventured inside the dilapidated stable.

Inside, it smelled of rotting hay and warped wood. Light filtered in through a sad window and cracks in the lumber walls. It still smelled like a barn—a smell she loved when she was a little girl. She thought about how she used to hide in the stable when she wanted to be alone, and sit with Falada, when he was a colt. But there was no way she was keeping Falada here in this old barn; it might collapse on him. If the weather got bad, she decided grimly, she was letting her dearest and oldest friend into her house. She knew well that there was nobody on the island equipped to medicate a sick horse.

As she was stepping through the straw on the floor, she suddenly heard a very shrill, very feline yowl. She gasped loudly and leapt back, looking for its source.

Out of the straw climbed a skinny calico tabby. Her coat was nearly all white, save for some tints of gold here and there. Around her left eye was a dark gold, almost red, spot. She bared her teeth and hissed ferociously at Jenna, who fell back in surprise with another yelp. She sat there and didn't move.

The tabby didn't move either, merely stared intensely at Jenna with her unnerving red-gold eyes, neck craned, ears cocked, head tilted.

Jenna's heart ached for the skinny little cat, and cautiously moved her hands toward her jacket pocket, where she carried a small container of leftover food from Felicia. The tabby hissed and unsheathed her claws again, but she didn't move. She smelled the food.

Slowly, Jenna ripped off a piece of meat and laid it gently on the straw. The tabby didn't move. Jenna sat still.

Finally, the tabby hunched back down into the straw and glared at Jenna. The farmer could take a hint—she stood and retreated back out the door into the sunlight.

That sunlight was deepening into ruddy warmth that was a late spring afternoon. As she walked by the stable, she couldn't help but peek in again, and found the tabby chewing ravenously on the piece of meat. She made a mental note to continue providing the cat with food, and that maybe she'd soon have her first barn cat!

˙·٠•● Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ ●•٠·˙

Jenna rose bright and early the next morning, determined to be more productive. She ate a hasty breakfast of a tiny fish and sliced herbs for seasoning—it tasted awful—grabbed her bandana, and ran out of the house. She tossed the nastier bits of the fish into the stable and heard a surprised yowl in thanks, and then tackled her field, armed with only a heavy axe and a heavier hammer.

She was so busy pounding away at her field that she missed the smartly dressed cowboy who stopped by briefly to meet her. He had better things to do with his time than wait around for silly, overeager and weak female farmers to deign to notice him, so he had proceeded on his tour to Chen's shop and then back to Taro's house. She also missed the cheerful middle-aged woman and her daughter he had arrived with, but they agreed to come back.

And they did, two hours later when Jenna was completely exhausted and hungry, and had cleared only a little over a half of her field. She was spread out on the warm grass praying for death when the two women stopped by again.

"My word, are you all right, dear?" asked the older woman. She had short, wavy dark blonde hair, kind blue eyes, and—a beauty mark! She was short and comfortably stout. "We came by earlier when you were working, but we didn't want to disturb you. Are you sure you're okay?" she added when Jenna sat up, nodding dizzily.

"Well," she continued dubiously, "if you're sure. It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Jenna! My name is Mirabelle, and this is my daughter Julia. We just moved in to the house beside Taro and family. We're here to provide your farm with animals and all the supplies you'll need to care for them. Of course, we'll need to have animals to sell, and my nephew is responsible for that. He arrived today too, but goodness knows where he went gallivanting off to. I'm sure he stopped by."

Jenna shook hands with Mirabelle and Julia, who smiled warmly in greeting.

"Well," Mirabelle said, "we'll be off now, to fix up our new habitat and become a-cli-mated. Best of luck to you and your field, Miss Jenna."

"Goodbye!" Julia called over her shoulder. "Be sure to pay us a visit soon, okay?"

"Okay, thank you, 'bye!" Jenna called back. She sat back down in the grass, feeling the sun's heat acutely on her sweaty back. Suddenly remembering the cool stream, she leapt up and ran towards it. It wasn't until after she jumped in that she remembered her only other garments were her nightgown, and several impractical dresses from her cargo…


	4. A Blast from the Past

"Um, yes, I know it's an awkward question, but could I please use your bathroom quickly to wash my clothes? I brought my own soap and baskets and everything—it's just that all I have is that old outhouse, and… you know…"

Mirabelle eyed the girl up and down and clucked disapprovingly like a mother hen. Jenna was garbed in what was once probably a pretty dress, but torn off crudely at the knee and sleeves. In her arms she carried a basket (newly replaced courtesy of Chen) brimming with heavy brocade, delicate flowy fabric, lace trimming, and some gauzy ribbon. Jenna did her best to shield the basket's contents from the prying eye by bracing its opening against her torso, but there was only so much she could do. Her orange and yellow outfit dripped sadly on the wooden floor from where it was draped over her shoulder.

"Of course you can use our facilities, hon, never feel like you need to ask—but—don't you have anything more practical to wash?" Jenna shifted from foot to foot restlessly and murmured something. Mirabelle decided to let it go and led to poor girl to their powder room.

As she was filling out paperwork involving the animals, she noticed that the bathtub water valve was being repeatedly turned on and off in short spurts of power. After this went on for more than an hour, Mirabelle got up and tapped gently on the bathroom door-flap. "Hon? Is everything alright?" She could faintly hear scrubbing coming from inside.

"Yes, thank you," Jenna replied. She sounded tired. Mirabelle didn't find that strange; laundry was exhausting work. So she bit her lip and went back to work.

The door opened and Julia entered, hauling a cart loaded with crates of supplies. Elliott was pushing the cart from behind.

"Hi, Mom," Julia said brightly. "Here is all the fodder and feed Vaughn promised. He says if we need more we can telephone him, but he won't be coming around again personally until the 17th."

"Oh, okie-dokie. You can just put it in the storage room…by the way, thanks for helping, Elliott dear," Mirabelle said, glancing up briefly. The rosy-haired man became rosy-cheeked, mumbled that it was no problem, and quickly pushed the cart into the bathroom by mistake. Jenna gasped loudly and there was a loud squelch…the sound of soapy water being pressed out of several layers of gown.

Elliott fell over himself apologizing for the mistake, and Mirabelle and Julia rushed in to help him clean up the crates that had toppled over onto Jenna's laundry. But they stopped short when they saw Jenna's laundry "technique"…

She was bent over the bathtub with a gown in one hand and a bar of soap in the other. A pile of soaking wet and sudsy dresses oozed over the floor beside her, her hands were red from wringing, and Mirabelle soon realized that the short bursts of bathwater were her version of the "rinse cycle".

Elliott was stooped over picking crates up, Julia was desperately smothering a wide grin, and Mirabelle was unabashedly chortling and beaming in amusement. Jenna dropped the dress she was holding into the bathtub, and rested her elbows on the tub rim, head in her hands.

"Julia," Mirabelle said, barely controlling her voice, "please help Elliott fix up his mess. Be a dear and get these crates out of the bathroom first, if you please, while I…assist…Jenna."

The two complied, and Mirabelle came over and knelt beside Jenna. She put her arm around the girl's shoulders. "No need to be ashamed, honey. Want to learn a more efficient laundry method? It's a little old-fashioned, but we don't have much choice here, I know."

After a moment, Jenna nodded. She drew away and stood back from the tub, surveying her mess. Mirabelle threw on the hot water valve, plugged the tub, trotted over to the sink, and took a laundry detergent box out of the cupboard door. After she poured in the correct amount, she scooped up both Jenna's handiwork and her unscarred clothing and dumped them unceremoniously into the tub of water. Steam rose from the tub as Mirabelle stirred the water with a long stick, like a giant pot of dress soup.

"Simple, really," Mirabelle remarked as she stirred. "Now what you do when you think they're nice and clean is, you can wring 'em out a bit but don't spoil your hands doing so, you only need to get the drenched quality out of 'em. Then you hang them out to dry at your place. They'll be stiff when you take them off the line, but maybe someday we'll get fabric softener! Until then, we live like the pioneers we are."

Jenna nodded again, and then smiled. "Thanks for your help. I'm sure you probably figured it out, but I've never done laundry before…"

Mirabelle grinned again. "Oh, that got across. But don't you worry about it; we've all got quite a bit to learn. Except, apparently, for that Taro! Thinks he's a walking encyclopedia. Even thinks he can predict the weather. Although, between us, he's fairly accurate…wouldn't put it past him to have a tiny TV hidden away somewhere that he watches every morning so he can act like some sorta agree-cultural gooroo. Says it's all in his bones, or his nose, or whatever happens to be ailing him that day."

Jenna grinned. "Well, thanks again. Sorry to bother you."

"Oh, no problem at all, honey! Feel welcome to march right on over whenever you need anything. Bye-bye now, dear."

Back at her farm, Jenna put together a makeshift clothesline out of the fishing line Taro had given her, and strung it between the stable and the wood shed, securing it to support beams. Finally she hung all her dresses, embarrassing as they looked fluttering in the breeze, on the line. _Well_, she told herself, _at least nobody else will see my personal disaster…_

˙·٠•● Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ ●•٠·˙

A few more days passed without incident—well, _negative _incident, that is. After suffering so much embarrassment, Jenna was beginning to consider a boring day as a great day. She'd learned with considerable surprise that flowers and herbs sold well in the city, and had been able to afford a small chicken coop and the highlight of her farming career—a chicken! A little, mostly-white chicken that loved to roll around, get dirty, peck at Jenna's hands, and lay sad little off-white eggs that didn't sell for very much, but brightened her day when she picked one up. The beloved hen's name was Gwyn, and the love was not quite mutual. It was Jenna's new goal in life to make the chicken adore her.

"Hi, Gwyn," Jenna said brightly, bouncing into the coop. The place smelled awful already, and Jenna was vaguely aware that the smell would only get worse as the population grew, but for some reason it didn't bother her. Yet.

The chicken stared at the overexcited girl with beady, critical black eyes. Gwyn fluffed her feathers and ran in the opposite direction from Jenna. Not to be so easily beaten, Jenna altered her course and headed towards the warm egg that still sat where Gwyn had been. She dumped it into her basket, and went to find Gwyn to give her her daily hug. (It was possible that she had read too many of the farming books Taro had given her.)

Gwyn panicked when she saw the open arms, and did what any self-respecting hen would do: she clucked in distress and fled, flapping her wings and losing feathers all the way. It was a little too late when Jenna realized where she was running to.

"Gwyn! STOP!" she cried, chasing the chicken in alarm. Gwyn had crossed the cleared part of the field and was making a beeline to the edge of the farm property….to the open road. _Great. Taro will probably catch her and give me the lecture of my life. As if I don't know that it's bad to have a demented chicken on the loose! Maybe I should just eat her…_

The farmer broke into an all-out sprint after her runaway lunch, tripping over the calico cat that had bravely ventured out to stare at the chicken. The cat, suddenly thinking it was okay to chase the bird now, also joined in the hunt.

"No!" Jenna cried in frustration. The cat easily outran Jenna, and was catching up fast to her chicken. Chicken parmesan was starting to sound more and more attractive.

"Mrrreow," replied the calico, sounding almost cheeky as she lapped the girl.

A stitch was developing in Jenna's side, and she thought with dread that Gwyn was certainly dead meat…and if Taro saw them, then she was too.

She slowed to a brisk jog as the stitch intensified. Gasping for breath, she watched the scene ahead of her with dread…she knew she didn't want to see what would ensue, yet she couldn't tear her eyes away.

But there was a surprise in store.

A tall man dressed like the hero of a clichéd Western movie leapt out of Mirabelle's house just as Gwyn half-flew by, squawking. He scooped the hen up in mid-flight and held her to his chest, far out of the cat's reach. The calico sat at his feet and looked up balefully at him.

"Scat," he said, nudging her with his feet. "Go on. This isn't today's lunch."

"Mrrrroowwwwww." The cat stalked away from him, tail held high, with an air of heavy indifference. The man walked over to Jenna, his black Stetson pulled low and his head slightly bowed. The shadow from the hat's brim concealed the rest of his face.

"Your chicken." It wasn't a question. He held Gwyn out to Jenna.

"Oh, um. Thank you for saving her from that cat…" She accepted Gwyn, who now seemed too worn out to put up a fuss. It seemed like a stupid thing to say. Tilting her head at him, she wondered if he was the same arrogant cowboy from the ship. "Are you new here, Mister…?"

The man didn't take the prompt for his name. He simply tipped the brim of his hat ever so slightly to her and said, "In a matter of speaking. I got a job to do here. Never chase chickens, it only scares them more. Follow and approach them slowly to build their trust, then they'll let you come closer. A fence may also be a good idea. Good day." He walked away, much like the cat, towards the beach.

Jenna exhaled deeply. Oh, that was him all right.

˙·٠•● Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ ●•٠·˙

Still paranoid from the chicken run, Jenna had kept Gwyn under house arrest for a week or so. Slightly disgruntled by being "cooped up" for so long, the chicken no longer let the farmer come any closer than three feet.

Even though this allowed Jenna to sleep at night, it wasn't easy on her supply of feed. So, one bright Wednesday morning, she headed down to Mirabelle's for two reasons: one, to buy more feed, and two, to pick up another chicken so Gwyn wouldn't be as moody.

Bells chimed cheerily as Jenna opened the door. "Morning, Mirabelle, Julia," she called brightly.

"Morning, dear," Mirabelle yelled from the storage room. "I'll just be a minute! Julia can help you at the counter."

Julia appeared from the living area. "G'morning! What can I get you today?"

Jenna leaned on the counter. "Well, I need some more feed—"

"_More_?" Julia interrupted. "Doesn't that hen get any sunlight?"

"—and I'd like another chicken."

"All right!" Julia beamed. "Mom! I need one order of chicken!"

"What do I look like to you, a cook?" Mirabelle walked back in, cradling a sleeping chicken in her arms. "Never mind, don't answer that. Here, dear. Why don't you give her a name?"

"How much feed would you like?" asked Julia.

"Uhhh—15 bushels, please. And, um…" she looked down at the chicken in her arms. The chicken fluffed her feathers and clucked twice: "Ki-ki!"

"Kiki," Jenna laughed. "Alright, then."

"Be careful not to scare this one away," Julia teased. Jenna flushed at the memory.

"It's alright, dear. Vaughn didn't tell us anything—we saw it."

Jenna bit her lip. "Vaughn?"

"The cowboy?" Julia prompted, laughing.

"Oh."

"Here he is now. Vaughn, come on over here and meet the farmer you helped last week." Mirabelle beckoned to a man who had appeared at the storage room's door.

"No—we've met, that's alright," Jenna said quickly.

"Nonsense! Y'all couldn't have met properly if ya's don't know each other's names. Come ON, Vaughn!"

Reluctantly, he walked up to Jenna and held out his hand. "Name's Vaughn. Nice to meet you," he said gruffly.

Jenna shook his hand. "Hi, I'm Jenna. I'm the farmer here."

"I know," he said, not looking up. Before an awkward silence could descend, Mirabelle said,

"Vaughn's my nephew. He supplies our shop with animals and tools, so he's only here on Wednesdays and Thursdays. Vaughn dear, take your hat off so she can get a look at you! I'm sorry Jenna, he's dreadfully shy."

Julia snorted at Mirabelle's description. "He's not _shy_, Mom." Vaughn, with obvious reservation, removed his Stetson and glanced at Mirabelle with a well-honed _are-you-happy-now_ look.

Jenna looked at him.

She froze.

Vaughn. Silver hair. Tall. Purple eyes. She knew him. She _remembered _him. The stable boy…her mouth fell slightly open and she stared outright at him, her mind racing. Oh no no no no no…this was bad.

He remembered her too. Big, soft blue eyes, light brown hair, round, almost heart-shaped face. The change in attire couldn't conceal her past. He dropped his hat, blinked, and stared back. Jenevra.

How long had it been? Six years? He'd worked there until he was 18…she was 2 years younger than him. He was 26 now. Eight years.

What was _she _doing here? Jenevra, of all people.

"It was nice to finally meet you," Jenna said quickly, ducking her head and pulling her bandana farther down. "Goodbye."

She raced out of the shop without her chicken feed, leaving Vaughn too stunned to move.


	5. Enter Vaughn

**A/N: I own nothing…not even the laptop I wrote this on :O**

Jenna sat on a stump in her field, moodily watching Kiki and Gwyn scratch for bugs in their new pen. She'd built it herself, out of crudely chopped lumber, but she was too distracted to be proud.

The Harvest Goddess had a wicked sense of humour, no doubt about that. Oh sure, wasn't this hysterical, to work her butt off for a good part of a season just to be ousted by some spontaneous blast from her past who decided to show up and ruin everything.

Everything. All 20 some-odd days of it. Sighing, she let her head drop to her hands. _Face it, it's not all that much anyway. Anyone with half a brain could get at least this much done in about three weeks. It doesn't matter…_

But it did matter, because it was something she had actually done for herself. She had to admit it: she was pretty upset. Back home, she could probably buy the guy's silence; here, she was sort of broke. Well, come what may…it was fun while it lasted, wasn't it? And the place was better for her being there; it had attracted some tourists already. Some people might say it doesn't pay to feel sorry for yourself, but _Goddess_ it was hard not to!

The day before, after being reintroduced to Vaughn, she had panicked and fled back to her ranch where she'd remained since. Probably a stupid plan of action. There was little doubt in her mind that any man would keep her secret when the alternative would net him a sizeable cash reward…

And by now the whole town—all, what, 5 villagers?—were probably in the know too. Really, it would be hard to think of a spur-of-the-moment excuse for why a girl, after learning someone's name, freaked out and ran off. Which is exactly what she did. So stupid! Even if he _had_ doubted that it was really her, now he knew for sure she was.

Ughhnnn—she didn't even think to grab the stupid feed she'd paid for. Frustration was building up. Was there anything she'd done right? She scowled down at Gwyn, who was scratching around in the soil near her feet. Three days before, she would have been thrilled to death if the finicky hen had voluntarily come so close to her. Now, her priorities were completely rearranged.

The sound of a large, heavy burlap bag hitting the soil behind her startled her thoughts away. She turned sharply to see _him _standing there by the chicken feed she'd ordered, staring at the ground.

There was a long, tense silence. Finally he said, "You forgot something the other day—uh—milady."

Jenna's toes curled in discomfort. "I'm Jenna here," she corrected tautly, biting back her anger. "Unless…" Her voice trailed off.

He waited, shifting his weight from foot to foot. "No," he said gruffly. "I didn't—tell them anything."

Jenna's spirits soared and a foolish grin broke out across her face. If he didn't look so obviously uncomfortable, she might have hugged him. She leapt off the stump in a burst of energy and was prancing towards the feed when he added, "But…"

She stopped abruptly, anchoring her spirits back down. But what?

"You—told my parents?" she guessed accusingly, taking a step back.

"I didn't say anything to anyone," he said, getting irritable and defensive. "This isn't any of my business, it's yours. I'm not going to butt in."

Another pause.

"Well, thank you so much for not giving me away," she said awkwardly. "I truly appreciate it."

Vaughn touched the tip of his hat in acknowledgement.

Pause.

"But don't you think you should tell them?" he asked abruptly, still facing the soil.

"No," she said stubbornly. "I told them I was leaving on my own will and not to worry about me."

"Yeah, right. You honestly expect them not to worry when the princess vanishes? People kidnap them all the time, blackmail them, and ransom them. For all they know you were forced to write that note! It was a thoughtless plan!" He inhaled deeply, and checked his manners. "Your Highness."

Jenna was getting annoyed. "I had to do it, alright? I'm not going to justify myself!"

Snorting cynically, Vaughn stuffed his hands in his pockets. "You're annoying," he declared. "I did you a favour. I could still claim that reward. You know the entire mainland is in a frenzy?"

"I thought you weren't going to butt in," Jenna snapped back. "And, it doesn't matter anyway. I'm not Valeria."

Vaughn growled something under his breath that sounded vaguely like "women". Jenna unclenched her fists and inhaled deeply, taking a few seconds to cool down. Finally she spoke, deciding to end the argument.

"Thank you," she said in forced formality. "If I can ever repay you in the future, let me know."

"I will."

"Good."

"Goodbye."

"Goodbye."

The man turned on his heel and strode briskly toward the ranch entrance. Jenna watched him irritably until he was out of sight, and then grabbed the heavy feed with both hands. Kiki and Gwyn looked on with interest as she painstakingly lugged it by their pen, marking grooves in the earth where it had been dragged. She deposited it square in the middle of the coop and put her hands on her hips in determined satisfaction, trying to keep her mind on her farm work instead of on the guilt Vaughn had dredged up.

_̴ı̴̴̡̡̡ ̡͌l̡̡̡ ̡͌l̡*̡̡ ̴̡ı̴̴̡ ̡̡͡|̲̲̲͡͡͡ ̲▫̲͡ ̲̲̲͡͡π̲̲͡͡ ̲̲͡▫̲̲͡͡ ̲|̡̡̡ ̡ ̴̡ı̴̡̡ ̡͌l̡̡̡̡._

Ever since he'd seen her again, Vaughn couldn't stop thinking about his childhood. Memories of the long, lazy summer afternoons spent sprawled in golden pastures, bathed in sunlight, were invading his thoughts and interrupting his work. But with these fond memories came an ache where his heart would be, if he ever acknowledged that he had one.

Vaughn's father used to work at the stable in the Palace where Jenna had grown up. His two sons, Vaughn and Skye, were raised alongside the finest thoroughbreds and saddle ponies in the kingdom—and as a result, Vaughn had a lasting affection for all animals, and horses in particular. He'd always held his father in high regard, and tried to emulate everything he did in the hopes that he would grow up to be just like him. But fate plays a funny game.

Things had started going downhill when Vaughn was around 14 years old. His mother, a respected animal researcher, was killed somewhere in a jungle in South America, where her team of researchers was analyzing the poison of the native dart frog species. She'd been away for upwards of three years. This was only the first of a hard-hitting double-whammy: she had told her husband and family that she was traveling to Alaska to study the seal population. She'd always said that the project was going to be 100% risk-free.

After that, the boys' father—Peder—got reckless, although he didn't give them the news of their mother's death. At nights, he'd go out with "the guys" and get so drunk he couldn't sit up straight—meanwhile, his earnings leaked out of his pockets through their nightly poker games. During the workday, if his hangover wasn't so bad that he had to stay in bed, he acted as if everything was normal. Normal, except for the fact that he couldn't bear to look into Vaughn's purple eyes anymore. They reminded him too much of Leslie.

He distanced himself from his son, and slacked in his work. A broken man, he let himself go, too proud to ask for help, and torn between telling his sons the truth and protecting them. He couldn't keep the charade up forever.

Skye _hated_ not having any money. Even after his father started hiding paycheques and his pocket book, he knew that there was a lot less of it to go around. He felt he had to compensate for the loss—so he began picking up little things from the stable. A curry comb here, maybe a horseshoe there….being from the palace, everything was intricately gilded and carved. They sold like hotcakes, and Skye began to build up his own security fund. He even went as far as flirting with a young noble lady to be granted access to her guest room. He looted her jewelry case, never taking much, and was gone by the time she returned from the bathroom.

Vaughn only became more secluded. His family had always been his only friends, and as they went their separate ways, he was left standing by himself. Well—fine. It wasn't like he needed anyone anyway.

That summer, he seemed justified. The Palace's Equestrian Department fired Peder, while Skye was wanted in the capital city (although, even if you knew what his name was, they'd have appreciated that too). Peder, shamed and despondent, packed his bags and moved out in the night without a word to his sons. What he didn't realize is that they had watched him the entire time, packing, from under their duvets. Skye watched coldly, considering his father a coward. Vaughn just stared numbly. He had never felt so let down.

A week later, they received a fat envelope from Peder, sans return address, explaining everything and instructing them not to look for him. He told them that they were on their own now. The letter contained a lot of anger towards Leslie, which shattered all the faith Vaughn still had in his father. Peder had pinned the blame of every problem in his life on her, including arguments and disputes between him and his sons. In fact, he seemed to blame her for his sons' existence.

Skye burned the letter in the fireplace, stayed one last night, and took off in the morning to seek his fortune (or rather, other peoples' fortunes). Vaughn, now 15, stayed to work in the palace stables. They were elitists, but if you were that good, they would accept you young full-time.

His main charge was Falada, the Princess Jenevra's mount. He'd been immensely relieved that he wasn't assigned Kingsley, who belonged to her older sister Valeria. Valeria had a little habit of firing people when she didn't ride well.

Caring for Falada, he came face-to-face with the young princess more than a few times, although it was rarely more than a brief hat-tip and curtsy. She spent a lot of time with the gelding outside of riding too. Once, she waited around in the tack room and watched him polish her saddle. When he was finished, she'd asked him a few questions about animal care, and then run off. It seemed to Vaughn now that she was probably planning her escape for a very long time.

When he was 18, he was offered a full-time job working for a successful animal "retailer" and bid farewell to his only home with mixed feelings. He moved up the ranks so swiftly that within a year, he was promoted to a representative…and that was how he'd ended up marketing farm animals on Sunny Island. It was only through stroke of luck (and Vaughn didn't get those very often!) that his Aunt Mirabelle and her daughter Julia had just settled there, but he wasn't about to complain—it made his stay there quite cheap! And, after all, money was all that mattered to him now.

Vaughn stood at the shore, feeling the waves trickle through his boots to tickle his toes, and stared out at the ocean. He hated feeling nostalgic. Didn't everyone want the old days back? Everyone cherished their childhood when they were older…and yet…why did he want it so _badly_? Wasn't he happy now? He had a job, more than enough money, and he worked with animals all day long. Wasn't that what he always wanted?

Whatever. Now he was getting all existential. _That's all I need, to turn philosophical and drive myself mad. Bet they've never heard that one before at the asylum._

He didn't care.

Tomorrow was going to be a long boat trip. Tipping his hat down to conceal his face again, he padded through the sand in the fading light of the sunset.


	6. The Little Princess

**A/N: Hey all, sorry for the…well, the incredibly long wait before the update! But the plot bunnies suddenly started springing up all over the place, so expect this story to be up and running again shortly. (I'll probably end up regretting saying that if I suddenly get busy again! Ahh!) **

**Anyway! Thank you all for the lovely reviews I hope you enjoy this latest installment!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything Harvest Moon related, nor do I own the Cinderella musical. (Sounds random now, but read on! Haha.)**

.:.:::.:.

"…_upper sector of the Capital has seen a frenzy of action and commotion following a rash of reports Tuesday concerning the alleged disappearance of Her Highness Princess Jenevra Anasofia Serafina da Mila. Said reports were confirmed to be true by Palace authorities Wednesday, although some remain skeptical as to the true nature of the disappearance. The note left by the Princess allegedly states that she chose to leave of her own free will; however, Palace authorities are currently investigating parties that may have benefited from such an incident. No suspects have currently been identified as of yet, and the Princess's whereabouts remain unknown. Search parties have been issued around the kingdom as authorities suspect foul play. The Palace asks that any person holding any information as to Her Highness' current whereabouts or wellbeing come forward and help locate the missing Princess. Rewards will be distributed for any and all tips concerning this urgent incident. In other news, local fishermen in Flowerbud Village have been noticing an increase in…"_

"Felicia!" Taro hollered from the kitchen. "Turn that infernal contraption down! And did ya forgit that it's my turn to give the weather forecast a listen? Goddess, girl!"

Felicia gently turned the volume knob on the radio down a few notches and stood up from her seat on the side of Natalie's bed. Serenely, she walked out of the bedroom to join her father in the kitchen. "The Princess is missing, Father."

"Eh?" asked Taro. He straightened from where he'd been pressing his ear against the wall. "What Princess?"

His daughter sat down at the kitchen table and rested her chin in her hands. "The youngest one. What are you doing, exactly?"

Taro cleared his throat. "Elliott and Julia are out behind this 'ere house and gabbin' like a coupla magpies. Anywho, I'm going to go listen me some weather."

Felicia raised a delicate eyebrow at him as he limped out of the room. "Were you eavesdropping, Father?"

"I want me some grandbabies," came the gruff retort.

The pink-haired woman refrained from pointing out that Elliot and Natalie _were _grandbabies. She heard the bed springs groaning as he sat down on one and the radio was switched back on. Static crackled for a few seconds before the chipper voice of the weather forecaster came on and began bubbling about the clear weather expected for the next few days.

The front door opening caught her attention, and a smile crossed her face as Jenna stepped into the house. "Hi, Felicia," she said cheerfully. "I brought you some flowers for the table."

"Aww, Jenna, isn't that sweet!" The woman happily accepted the cluster of yellow star-shaped blooms. "Did you want to stay for breakfast this morning?"

"Oh," the farmer said, "thanks very much, but I hate to invade like that. I thought I might try out the new café."

Felicia beamed and clasped her hands together. "Well, that sounds just lovely! I heard that some prestigious gourmet cook moved in, and won't having a renowned chef running a restaurant here be delightful?"

Jenna smiled weakly and cringed; she hated to burst the gentle woman's bubble. "Well, actually, Felicia…the owner is a very good cook, but you're confusing him with Pierre."

Felicia sent her a blank look and Jenna raked a hand through her hair. "Pierre? You know—a little shorter, blonde, big purple eyes?" Felicia's expression remained blank, and Jenna sighed. "Purple suit, tall top hat? You can't miss him!" She blinked, realizing that she herself hadn't really taken notice of him for the first few days. "Well…I guess you kind of could." Finally, the way to pique Felicia's memory occurred to her. "Natalie's been hanging around with him a lot."

Realization dawned on the pink-haired woman's face. "Ohhh! What? I thought he was…well, a lot younger…" she murmured thoughtfully before turning her attention back to Jenna. "So you're saying he's—an adult?"

"Yes," the farmer confirmed, laughing at kind Felicia trying to not look too astonished. She paused for a moment before adding, "By the way, Natalie gets annoyed if you make any comments about his stature. Not that you would, I'm just thinking about Taro. Anyway, I'm getting hungry, so I'll be off now—good morning."

"Good morning," Felicia returned softly. She tilted her head and watched thoughtfully as Jenna retied her bandana over her hair and stepped out into the crisp morning air. "Oh, and Jenna? Did you hear the news?"

The farmer stopped and turned around to look at her. "I don't believe so. What news?"

Felicia pursed her lips. "The entire mainland is in a panic, because the poor little Princess has disappeared! Can you believe it? Right before Summer Commencement, too." She watched Jenna's face carefully for a reaction.

The farmer gave a little start, and then forced both her eyebrows up. "Oh, wow," she breathed. Then, "I hope everything turns out alright for her family."

"Yes," Felicia said slowly. "What do you suppose her brother and sister think of it all?"

Jenna turned back to the door, a frown tugging at the corners of her mouth. Felicia seemed slightly confrontational. "I don't suppose Crown Princess Valeria would be terribly happy. It could hamper her wedding plans." She paused and waited for a response from the older woman.

"The poor dear," she merely stated. Jenna could feel her thoughtful gaze burning into the back of her head, and her heart suddenly thudded with terror as she realized she'd made a mistake. She whirled around to face Felicia.

"I mean," she added quickly, "I assume that it's Jenevra and not Valeria that ran away."

"You're quite right," Felicia answered, turning to the kitchen to begin preparing dinner. The tension in the air seemed to lift—or maybe only Jenna had felt it. Maybe she was hypersensitive and overanalyzing Felicia's innocent conversation; more than likely, that's all it was. There was no reason to believe the calm, serene housewife suspected anything.

Jenna smiled uncertainly at her. "Well, um, let's all keep her and her family in our thoughts! Um…I'll be off now. Morning!"

"Take care, dear," Felicia called over her shoulder as the door closed. As soon as Jenna was gone, she let out a heavy sigh. What on earth was the Princess thinking?

She stirred the pancake mix aggressively, troubled by her thoughts. There was no doubt in her mind that Jenna was none other than the missing Princess; Felicia had been a follower of the Royal Family's goings-on her entire life. The romantic, lavish lifestyle had always fascinated her, and she held a particular fondness for the youngest Princess Jenevra, who shared her birthday. There purposefully wasn't much public information on the children of the King and Queen to _avoid_ kidnappings, but she did know that Princess Valeria, the eldest, was bull-headed, privileged and stubborn; Prince Roy, the second born, was intelligent, kind, and shared a special bond with his little sister; and the youngest, Princess Jenevra, was quiet, reserved, gentle, and animal-loving. She would be just about Jenna's age. While none of this knowledge truly proved Jenna to be the Princess, Felicia also knew one more vital tidbit of information: Roy had nicknamed his baby sister 'Jenna' as a child when she had difficulty pronouncing her own name. That, combined with Jenna's almost unnoticeable slip-up and several other clues she'd picked up, was enough evidence to convince Felicia.

While she was glad that the missing Princess was safe and secure, Felicia couldn't help but wonder what she was up to, abandoning her family like that. It was unlike the shy princess she'd always read about. She was still puzzling at the mystery when Natalie and Elliot came piling in, shouting and at each other's necks.

"Sit down, you two, and stop bickering," she reprimanded calmly without bothering to turn around.

"Natalie keeps saying that—" Elliot began, but Natalie casually cut him off as though he hadn't said anything at all.

"Mom, what's for breakfast?"

Taro came hobbling out from the bedroom where the weather report had just wrapped up. "Breakfast?" he asked hopefully.

"Pancakes," Felicia replied. "So, what's new, everyone?"

"Elliot almost went on a date with Julia yesterday," Natalie announced, "except he's so much of a wimp that he chickened out at the last minute and they ended up just going out to lunch instead."

"That sounds like a date to me," Felicia said serenely.

Elliot's face flamed tomato-red. "It wasn't!" he insisted, before turning angrily on his sister. "Maybe I didn't want to ask her on a date! Maybe we're just friends!"

"GRANDBABIES!" exclaimed Taro.

Natalie snickered. "Don't count on it, Pops," she said cheerfully. Elliot glared at her.

"Yeah, well, don't expect any from her, either!"

Natalie wanted desperately to punch him in the face, but last time she tried to do that at the table, Felicia had grounded her from chocolate for two months and made her _apologize_. So she settled for demanding, "What's that supposed to mean, you dork?"

Her brother trembled slightly with the effort of standing up to her, sort of. "It means if you don't ch-change your attitude, no m-man will ever want to m-marry you! Especially n-no one respectable!"

The young woman rolled her eyes exaggeratedly. "Oh, the _horror_. I'll never marry a man my brother approves of, like someone who enjoys tea parties and cake-baking as much as he does."

Elliot's nostrils flared angrily. "Like P…Pierre?"

Natalie froze. Slowly, she turned her head towards him and flashed him a look of pure venom. "_What_ did you just say about Pierre?"

"GRANDBABIES!" Taro cried again.

Felicia sighed and sat down, waiting for the pancakes to cook. "I had a bit of an interesting morning," she said.

Both her children turned away from each other to look at her, although it was plain they wanted to go at it. "How so?" Elliot finally asked, managing to drain all the poison from his tone.

"Well, I was listening to the radio, and it turns out poor little Princess Jenevra is missing. Apparently she ran away from home."

Both Natalie's eyebrows shot up. "Hm," she said shortly. "I wonder where she went."

"Where could she possibly go?" Elliott wondered.

Felicia pursed her lips thoughtfully. Finally, she said, "I have no idea."

.:.:::.:.

" The Prince is giving a ball… "

Back at her ranch after breakfast, Jenna sang the merry little ditty to herself. The tune was a familiar one. Her family had always gone to see the major musicals presented at the critically acclaimed Blueblood Theatre, and despite the airy meaninglessness of the sappy romances, she'd always enjoyed them. There was something innocent and charming about watching Cinderella twirl around onstage in her lacy blue-ice tulle, singing her heart out about how great true love was. Even if that sort of stuff didn't happen anymore. If it ever did.

Margie never thought so.

The thought of the motherly nurse brought a light smile to the farmer's lips. Of all the people she'd left behind, Margie was the one she missed. Well, besides her brother, of course. If she could have, she'd have stuffed the protesting, practical woman into her suitcase and snuck her aboard the _Clytemnestra. _

Except Margie couldn't have known—she'd have caused a ruckus.

" His Royal Highness, Christopher Rupert, Windmehr Lademehr, Carl Alexander. Francois Reginald, Lancelot Herman… "

Laughing at herself, Jenna wondered how in the world she could remember the guy's ten thousand names but had bungled the axe techniques somehow. She tried to remember that swing that Taro had shown her—the one that could clear a branch in a single hit.

_Oh, yes—you have to twist your body, too. _Vigorously, she cracked down on a branch sitting innocently at her feet. The blade connected with a satisfying crunch. Smiling with approval, she tried to haul the axe out…and found it was expertly wedged in the branch.

Defeat! She sat down, wondering if there was a white flag nearby. Kiki tottered by and regarded her critically, as if assessing her progress. Jenna yawned widely in return. Looking a little miffed, the chicken clucked and continued on.

It was Friday, at—she checked her waterlogged (but still in working condition) watch—10:00 am. She still had to figure out what to do with the rest of her day, without attracting too much attention (or questions). Urgh! What she wouldn't give to know what Vaughn had said to Julia and Mirabelle! Rolling over to her side, she dug around in her pocket for the little notepad where she'd been tallying the amount of wood and stone she'd chopped.

Lately, she'd been able to access a lot more material—the mammoth man, Gannon, had actually gone up to the hulking boulder and reduced it to dust with his bare hands. Natalie pointed out cattily that there definitely weren't any pie shops.

But—Jenna sighed—there were a lot more bridges to be made. Didn't the previous inhabitants do _anything_? No wonder they all got fed up and left.

Gratefully, she noted that she had enough wood now to build herself a small barn by Gannon's estimate, and then, by the time she finished clearing her field, she'd have enough split wood to build a bridge to the forest.

Well, that is…if she ever got that stupid axe out of the branch…

She waved the thought away and stood, brushing the mud from her shorts. She wanted to look somewhat presentable for the carpenter.

.:.:::.:.

After sneaking craftily (albeit slowly) past Mirabelle's house, Jenna arrived at Gannon's door unseen and looked around stealthily. Nobody was around. Cracking the door open slightly and peering inside, she realized that there was nobody behind the counter either.

The opening allowed a shaft of sunlight to enter the dark building. It gleamed against the blades of various tools resting on a sturdy shelf, not high above the counter.

"Ouch," said Gannon's voice grumpily. Jenna jumped in surprise.

"Oh," she said distantly as the giant man lumbered into view from the corner of the building. "I'm sorry…I didn't see you there."

He grunted, gesturing for her to come in. She crept quietly inside and shut the creaky door carefully, afraid of being too noisy and aggravating him.

"Was napping till you opened the door, and caught the sunlight on my tools. Burns the eyes," he said pointedly, taking his place behind the counter.

She clasped her hands together at her belly. "I'm very sorry," she repeated. "I didn't realize … you were napping."

"Well, what kin I do ye fer?"

"I was hoping you would build me that barn we were talking about—I have all the materials you'll need, and I have enough money now…"

"Done," he said shortly. "It'll be ready soon. I'll get started right now, matter of fact."

Jenna knew a dismissal when she heard one and trudged out. Truth be told, she was a little relieved to get out of there…

…Until she realized what her new task was.

With a sinking heart, she looked towards the animal shop. Mirabelle and Julia waited inside, grinning evilly and wringing their hands together in fiendish delight at the prospect of questioning her.

Okay, so maybe that was unfair. Probably they meant well. Maybe they'd forgotten. _Sure, until you show up and remind them. _

Now or never. She wanted animals as soon as possible, so NOW was the time to ask about them. So if they didn't have any on hand, they could ask _him _to bring some the next time he came to town.

Jenna robotically willed one foot in front of the other until she found herself at their deceivingly friendly-looking door.

.:.:::.:.

Bells chimed cheerfully at the doorway. Mirabelle, looking up with interest at her customer, smiled.

"Hi, Jenna honey," she said sweetly. "How have you been?"

Jenna forced herself to smile, but it came out shy. "Well, thank you. And yourself?"

Mirabelle grimaced slightly. "Well enough, I suppose, but I've been having these terrible backaches lately! Julia thinks perhaps it's the darned mattresses of stone what's doing it."

Jenna was relieved. Hopefully she could steer the conversation entirely towards the kindly woman, and probing questions wouldn't be a problem.

"Chen has mattresses," she told Mirabelle. "I expect you're sleeping on the ones that were here?"

Mirabelle nodded. "I'll tell you, the thought outright disgusted us at first, but now it's not so bad. I may have to look into those Chenny mattresses however, dearie! Now," she continued, leaning forward on the counter, "what can I do for you today?"

Jenna was just about to ask about cows and sheep when Julia burst in from the kitchen. "Jenna!" she cried. "You're finally back! We were getting so worried about you. We thought we'd scared you off for good!" The blonde hugged Jenna tightly, who stood stiff as a board. Awkwardly patting Julia's back, she glanced at Mirabelle. Mistake.

"Yes," Mirabelle agreed. "What with your hasty escape and all. Was Vaughn really so horrid to you, dear?"

"N-n-no…" Julia released the farmer, and then scrutinized her carefully. Mirabelle looked at her dubiously, and Jenna blushed under the four suspicious eyes. Finally, Julia's face broke into a wide, white smile. Grabbing Jenna's shoulders lightly, she guided her to the other side of the shop.

"You like him, don't you!" Julia's accusation was hushed, giggly and excited. Jenna's face grew redder with indignation. "I wondered if you did!"

"_Like _him!" Jenna spluttered. This was completely out of left field. No! It was wrong on so many levels! It was against everything that was right and good! The selfish, self-entitled, self-centred jerk!

Well, he did respect her privacy.

So? Privacy was all he cared about. It was mostly for himself, so he wouldn't get wrapped up in royal affairs that didn't concern him. Jenna was just about to set Julia straight when it dawned on her.

If she convinced Julia that she _wasn't_ interested in her self-absorbed, loony cousin, she'd just have to come up with another excuse that made as much sense—and on the spot, too. But if she "admitted" she was—this was suddenly so _easy_. And hey…she was already blushing! Easy, breezy, CoverGirl.

Sighing, Jenna pressed her hands to her eyes. "Yes," she 'confessed' through her teeth. Julia squealed and clapped her hands together in girlish glee. Jenna leaned back against the wall and rubbed her eyes tiredly.

"Ooh, I can't wait till he comes back! You know, I think he might like you too because he put up more of a fuss than he usually does when we asked him to deliver your feed—and you know, he actually _dropped his hat _when he saw you! I've never seen him do that before—that's so _cute_—"

_You have no idea, _Jenna thought wryly. _No. You really don't. _The whole scenario worked out so perfectly and was so simple that it was almost funny.

Julia stopped twirling around the room and looked at her mother. "That's the problem with this place," she said to her. "There aren't enough romantic festivals to get us through the year."

Jenna's heart stopped. Whaaaaat? Romantic festivals?

"No!" she gasped. Mother and daughter turned to look at her, askance. Jenna blinked, blushing hotly. "I—uh, please don't breathe a word of this to him. He was…not what I expected, so…I…plan to get over him," she finished lamely.

"You _plan _to get over him?" Julia rolled her eyes. "Come on, give him a chance."

"Nooooo!" the brunette writhed uncomfortably where she stood. "I…appreciate that you're trying to help, but I think this is something…kind of…personal." _More than you know. _

Julia beamed. "Oh, all right then, I won't say anything to him. But I think it would make him happy~…"

Sceptically, Jenna snorted quietly. She pressed her always-cold hands to her hot cheeks, hoping it would help tone down the colour.

Mirabelle chuckled kindly, shaking her head. "Anyways, dearie, never mind this girly-girl chitchat. You came here for something else, remember?"

"Oh," Jenna said. "Yes. I'm having Gannon build a barn and it should be ready any day, so I was wondering if you had any animals in stock at the moment?"

Mirabelle shook her head. "Large animal livestock? Nope. Now, we only got poultry. But don't you worry; Julia can ring our man up in a jiffy and request he bring a little something next time he comes. What were you thinking of, dear?"

"Two calves, I think."

"Julia, be a dear and ring your cousin up."

The blonde minced over to the phone and delicately dialled a number, winking at Jenna.

Jenna winced. All the farmer could think of was escape…maybe a different lie would have been better after all?

Julia had a quick conversation with Vaughn. Just before she hung up, she turned and offered the phone teasingly to Jenna, mouthing the words 'want to talk to him?'. The brunette jutted out her jaw and scowled. Julia hung up, laughing.

"Look, Mom. She picked up a Vaughn characteristic!"

Jenna rolled her eyes, picking her rucksack up off the floor. But as she turned the knob and headed outside, she couldn't help but think they were right.

Back at her farm, as she carefully trod around tender crop sprouts, Jenna wondered what the consequences of her lie would be. Hopefully, if _he _ever found out what she had said, he would at least let her within hearing distance to explain. Well, after all, did it really matter that much?

Yes. She had to keep him on good terms.

.:.:::.:.

**A/N: So there you have it! This mostly lays the groundwork for some of the plot, so I'm sorry if it was a bit boring. Anyway, I hope you liked it—please leave me a review either way though, if you have time. Thanks for reading!**


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